Starlight

Bespelled - James

A/N: Just to warn you, yes, the chapters are very, very short. It's something to work on.

I really hope you all like this, even though my stories, so far, haven't any reads. I'd appreciate it if this one could get some feedback.

Thanks! :)

There's something different about her.

Usually I don't notice simple things on girls, like their hair and makeup. This isn't simple.

This is supernatural.

"Hi," she chirps, smiling widely at me, as she sits herself down on the next seat. It's English, possibly the worst of all the subjects - but she loves it. I can think of better things to do.

"Hey," I murmur, pretending to be interested in what the teacher is writing on the board.

"I don't get it, James. Could you help me?"

Me, help you? I almost laugh out loud. I twist my torso so I am turned towards her. And then I see her face.

"Are you okay? You look like you've just seen...a ghost!" She laughs to herself, and it annoys me. I don't know why; it's just that it's so melodic, a little tinkling of bells in my ears.

"Yeah, thanks," I mutter, lowering my eyes to her hand, so close to mine, fingers tapping impatiently. Then she raises it to her mouth, and I have to watch her. Have to. Her eyes are on me as she grazes each nail, each painted - and chipped - nail, with her teeth, nonchalant.

And I just know.

* * *

Maya Reynolds. That's her name.

Maya Reynolds is sixteen years old, was born on the twenty-ninth of February in a leap year, and is slightly short-sighted in one eye.

Maya Reynolds's acquaintances are Hayley Morris and Charlotte Vail.

I make it a habit of mine to research each of my subjects, and she is one - she was using magic, right there, in English.

I don't know exactly what type of magic, but I suspect it was a love elixir.

I actually felt something.

It's not something that can be easily explained. I've never fallen in love before - naturally or by magic - but I'm not sure I liked it. Does love always make you feel vulnerable, exposed, like someone else knows you better than you do? Maybe I don't like it because the last time I ever felt something remotely like that was four years ago. When I still had my mother.

Maya's face never used to glow; her blue eyes never used to speak to me. But I want to know them; want them to want to know me. And more than anything, I want to make that beautiful mouth smile.

I shake myself, because I can't let myself fall in love with a witch.